Red Nocturne
by Scripta Lexicona
Summary: There are perfectly sound reasons why L doesn't care to sleep. Rated for potentially disturbing imagery. Spoiler for L's name.


**Red Nocturne**

The hallway L was standing in appeared to be very long but it was difficult to be sure because it was also very dark. His immediate area was illuminated by a strange, faint and seemingly sourceless glow allowing him to observe the designed tiles that constructed the passage. They ran in a diamond pattern before him, each alternating square a slightly deeper shade than the one next to it, like an unused and faded chessboard. The walls were composed of large square sections, carefully carved with simple designs to give it the appearance of ornateness. The symbols were almost familiar, creating an overall motif that L thought he should probably recognize but just couldn't bring to the front of his brain. The entire hall was cast in pale lavender or grey or coral … it was hard to fix on which color it was (though it very well could have been all of them) and the odd lighting did nothing to help.

A soft splatter drew his attention, the first noise he could recall hearing in this unknown place. Looking up he saw a thick copper pipe running the length of the ceiling – no, more than one, several in fact, in different diameters. One was leaking and the drops fell just next to his bare feet. L nervously drew his foot away, placing it uncomfortably on the opposite leg. Whatever it was didn't look like water – it was shining, sparkling with pinpoints of light, the brightest thing he could see. Actually, it was beautiful in a way. But it was not to be trusted.

A new noise, a soft clinking. His eyes shifted from the puddle forming by his side to the floor in front of him. A chain was lying there, running straight and true down the center of the hall into the darkness. He realized he was holding the end of it in his right hand and he couldn't remember if he'd picked it up or if it had always been there. Almost unconsciously he rubbed the links between his fingers but they yielded no secrets, only the feel of cool, smooth metal. Again he considered the length before him, disappearing into this curiously square hallway which made L suddenly feel small and very much alone. And all at once he didn't want to find out what lay at the other end of that chain because he knew with a sudden stark clarity that it would be nothing short of destruction. But….

He couldn't help it, he really couldn't. The glamour of the chain seeped into him and compelled him, and the _need to know_ drew him on as so many dangerous things had before. So he moved forward, step by step, the chain trickling through the barest grip of his fingers. He didn't want to touch it but he couldn't let it go. A breeze had risen now – no, not a breeze, more like a current of air, just enough to rustle his long black strands. It was familiar somehow although he could detect no distinct scent in the gently flowing air. Nonetheless it had the dual effect of soothing and unnerving L, soothing because of the familiarity, unnerving because if he had been able to think about it he might have pinpointed _why_ it was familiar and thus proceeded no further. But he couldn't and didn't.

The farther he moved the colder the floor became until it was like ice and each step burned. (And a detached part of him was aware that he was moving not in his usual deliberately awkward duck-footed style, hunched with his hands hidden in his pockets; but properly erect with each step taken carefully and his free hand dangling at his side. Was there nothing for him to conceal here?) Yet still he walked forward to find whatever was waiting for him at the other end. Farther and farther his feet carried him, the luminescence moving with him so that he could always see where he was but never where he was going or where he came from.

It went on like this interminably and L began to seriously consider stopping. The only indication that he was even making any progress was the liquid diamond leaking from the copper piping to splash innocuously at random intervals along the drab floor. And though his feet were starting to go numb, the pain of the cold was still unbearable. Besides, he hadn't really wanted to know where this led anyway, not _really_, not _truly_…. And then the hall abruptly ended and L was faced with a wide circular chamber with a domed ceiling. As opposed to the passage he'd just exited, the majority of this space was lit with that dim misleading incandescence. Except for the exact center. Just where the chain led.

If L had actually stopped there, if he'd paused for just a moment he might have been able to keep himself from continuing forward, might have even been able to turn back and find some way out of this place he'd gotten trapped in. But his deadened feet kept going, picking their steps carefully one by one, silently crossing a new tile design to the center of the room (again he did not recognize the pattern). Still dark, still hidden from his vision somehow, but the chain was now sloping upward as though it was connected to something there….

And suddenly it was revealed and L gasped, the first sound he'd issued. It was Light, the thing attached the chain he held was Light, though "attached" was hardly the word to use. Loops of the thick dull metal were wrapped all around him, restraining and suspending him. Around his waist and across his chest, twining sinuously around his arms and raising them above his head, his limp wrists giving the impression of a broken puppet. There was even a couple of wraps loosely circling his neck, keeping his head from dangling too low while avoiding choking. The teen's knees were lifted just off the floor with his legs collapsed listlessly beneath him so he was unable to support his weight on anything but the chains. It had to be tortuous – even from a few feet away L could pick out the angry red marks left by the links digging into his flesh.

Light's eyes were closed but due to the twists of metal holding his head upright L could read the expression of agony etched across the normally composed features. (Absently and automatically he also noted that the teen was adorned in his usual slacks and casually fashionable shirt though the slacks were wrinkled while the shirt was half-unbuttoned, the cuffs undone as well and scrunched haphazardly under the pull of the constraints.) For a moment L could only stare as the utter disturbedness of the scene washed through him. _Light-kun … who did this to you?_

The eyes flickered open and the caramel-colored orbs dully rolled up to meet the man's own bottomless obsidian pools. L felt a vague pang as he looked into that lifeless gaze which had formerly held such challenge and resolve, always willing to fight against him even when they worked together. _Who did this to you?_ he couldn't help wordlessly asking again.

"You did." The voice was barely there, the answer a breathy whisper that nevertheless resonated in the wide empty space. L almost recoiled, both from the answer to his unspoken question and the dead tone in which it was given.

"Don't you recognize it?" that shell of Light continued, feebly flicking a hand to rattle his confinement. L's eyes snapped down to the links between his fingers and he hastily dropped them but it was too late. Unnoticed before, he now raised his arm to stare wide-eyed at the shining cuff adorning his right wrist, the end of the chain dangling accusingly in front of his face. It led straight to Light and L finally picked out the other end fastened to an equally shiny shackle banding the teen's left wrist.

"You did this to me, Ryuuzaki," Light repeated even more softly than before as though he was fading away. Another pang dug into L's gut with the addition of his name – one of his many lies. L _was_ a liar and a manipulator and got his ends through questionable means, at times at the expense of others. But this….

"I never—" he began.

"You did," Light cut in, his voice suddenly strong, almost the way L remembered it. "Who else would have done this, who else _could_ have?"

L took in the vision again, the chains, the disheveled clothes, the pallor of Light's skin, the general air of hopelessness that clung to him like a shroud. True, he had imprisoned Light once before, kept him though he had no reasonable excuse for doing so until the dissension from all sides had forced him to relent. But not like this.

"Light-kun, I wouldn't have—"

Again he was cut off.

"But you did!" the teen insisted, stronger yet. "You never let me go, never! You kept digging and scraping and _picking_, looking for something that _isn't there_." The links rattled as Light strained against them in his insistence, his eyes wide and pleading but still empty. "You've _ruined_ me. Is that what you wanted? Is that what you were hoping for?"

"No, Light-kun…." Without thinking, L stepped forward and reached out, brushed the tips of his fingers along the side of Light's face. Though it was the barest contact, the teen hissed in pain and flinched, jerking his head away as far as the chain would allow. L snatched his hand back and instead bent closer, peering with concern through his dark unruly fringe. Light's face was still averted, allowing L to easily see the thing that made his already wide eyes become impossibly larger. Where he'd laid his fingers, harsh purple-red lines marred Light's face, deep in the skin just like … just like scars….

"Why did you do this to me?" the teen uttered, voice faint again. "What possible reason could you have to justify this … _treatment_?" Light spoke the word as though he was attempting to maintain some sort of civility despite his current state. Of course, he seldom resorted to profanity anyway. "Why me?" Barely audible this time.

"Because you are Kira," L answered simply, even as something inside him clenched at the words. Even for Kira this sort of "treatment" just wasn't … appropriate and again the man found himself doubting that he had really been responsible for it. Did he really have that in himself? L quickly shut off the answer to that query.

With a deliberate slowness that L rarely saw outside of horror films, Light turned his head back to the dark-haired man, his eyes cutting through his drooping, unkempt bangs. The look blazing out of those hazel orbs was certainly not one L was unaccustomed to seeing and yet even this hatred was only a diluted form of its true self, nothing compared to the burning depths he'd occasionally glimpsed before the teen's voluntary confinement.

"Still, Ryuuzaki?" The question came out in a poison-laced hiss. "Is that really what you see when you look at me? Do I look like Kira?" Light widened his eyes and shook his hair out of the way – _clink clink_ – silently challenging L to search that gaze and find any trace of the self-deluded murderer. And all L could see….

_No._

"Yes," he lied.

Light exhaled sharply as he turned his eyes away once more. "So tell me," he went on caustically, "If I am Kira then what are you?"

"Justice." The word came reflexively and without thought.

Light gave a bitter laugh and rattled his chains, face contorted in torment, eyes glazed with a myriad of emotions – rage, fear, hopelessness, panic … betrayal?

"This is Justice?" he asked, voice dangerously low. "This is what Justice looks like??" The volume had risen on each word until the teen actually began shouting at L, something even the greatest fits of temper had rarely led to before. "What happened to mercy, Ryuuzaki? Kindness? You're no better than Kira yourself! Only _you_ are allowed to decide what is right and what is wrong and _you_ determine the punishments. You think you can handle anything the way you want because of your position but that _doesn't make it right_. If you're looking for Kira maybe you should look to yourself first. After all, who else would do this to a _friend_?" The word was given with a particular sort of spite that told L that Light knew it was meaningless and that Light _knew_ L knew … but L answered him anyway.

"I lied." Light gave him a half-smile and another tiny chuckle with no true amusement behind it. After all, they had both been aware that it was just another one of those "L-isms," created and given solely to produce a reaction that could then be dissected and analyzed – and Light had expected nothing less.

But that seemed to exhaust the last of the teen's flickering will. His head drooped again as his face crumbled, eyes half-lidded. The chains bit even deeper into his abused skin as he hung uselessly, not trying to do anything to relieve the pain. It was entirely pathetic and L wasn't sure he could stand it much longer. Even if he'd never meant any of the protestations of friendship or camaraderie the fact was he was still _human_ and didn't generally revel in the face of another's suffering. And worse yet, if he _had_ been wrong all along….

"Please." Light's voice was cracked, utterly broken. Nothing remained of the confident young man that had engaged in complex mental combat with L and stimulated his higher reasoning as few ever had. He was ruined, destroyed, shattered beyond repair. And L had done it to him. He was the only one responsible. "Please, Ryuuzaki. There's no piece of me left anymore. At least take these binds off of me. Please…." Light's eyes were squeezed closed now and as L watched in horror, a tear leaked out of one eye, a deep crimson drop that left a tainted trail on the teen's cheek as it rolled ponderously to his chin before splattering on the dingy floor.

The tiny sound spurred L into action like a starter's pistol. There was no key in his pockets, no hidden tools, but he probably wouldn't have bothered with them anyway, so urgent was he to undo the damage, assuage the hurt (if, indeed, either of those things were still possible). Starting with the loops around Light's neck, he carefully began unwinding the links that held the teen captive. As gentle as he was, though, he couldn't prevent the vandalism his very fingers caused to Light's skin. Everywhere he touched, those small scars appeared and Light flinched with each one, biting his lip to keep from moaning although a few escaped anyway. L hated it, but what could he do? He _had_ to touch Light to extricate him. So he did his best to make as little contact with the teen's skin as possible.

Head, then one arm, then the other, the marks from both L and the chain leaving their grotesque portrait on the once-flawless Light. Finally the loops around his chest were gone and he was free to sag to the floor, devoid of the ability to even keep himself aright. Without consideration, L knelt down and grabbed him before he could collapse entirely, leaving the teen instead draped over the dark-haired man, head on his shoulder, arms hanging limply by his side as L's own wrapped around his back.

Then Light shakily drew the limbs up and clutched L's shirt awkwardly. "Thank you," he whispered in the older man's ear. "That's all I wanted … L." He raised his right hand and brushed a finger lightly along L's cheek. The dark-haired man sucked in a breath as a sudden sting followed the caress. He was almost positive Light had used the tip of his finger but it felt like…. Raising a hand, he gingerly touched the spot, wincing slightly as a needle of pain lanced through his face at the contact. Wide-eyed, L pulled his hand away to see … blood, the smears starkly vivid against his pale skin.

L tensed then, an unknown fear rising in him even as Light's hand on his face became more insistent, controlling, and the teen pulled back to look into the deep black eyes which widened further at the sight before them. The bloody tears were seeping back into the now-vibrant eyes, draining into his irises, corrupting and muddling the color, leaving them glowing red like blemished rubies.

And his face…. The entire mien had changed, no longer the Light Yagami L had known after his confinement; no, this was the original, the one L had first made contact with, the one with the supreme arrogance barely contained behind a carefully-constructed unemotional mask, though those eyes could never hide it….

But he wasn't hiding anything now. He wore his horrid superiority on his face openly, the normally aesthetic lines harsh – eyes narrowed, brow low, cruel twist of the lips lifted into a feral sneer.

_Kira_.

L had allowed his guilt and Kira's artifice to release the demon and now….

The teen moved away completely, keeping his hand on L's face, and rose gracefully to his feet. The light in the room had somehow changed without L realizing it, now glaring in acrid reds and sharp whites, silhouetting the figure before him yet lighting every feature as well. The marks from the chains faded away (the ones L had inflicted remained) as the towering figure began smoothing his disheveled clothing priggishly with his free hand, for a moment ignoring the man still kneeling before him.

L used the opportunity to plant his hand on the floor, swing his leg up in a powerful kick, knock Kira down, _get away_….

That was the plan but unfortunately L hadn't realized that at _some_ point during that brief embrace … the chains once binding Light were now imprisoning him instead. His arms and his legs were completely wrapped and now that he'd taken notice of the links they seemed to tighten, squeezing until L felt like they were laying right against his bones, paper-thin skin crushed between, and he grit his teeth to keep from letting out any noises of pain.

Kira took note of his futile struggle and his discomfort and grinned, less an expression of pleasure than a bearing of bright teeth. Finally releasing L's face, he flicked his hand and the chains suddenly drew up, or shortened perhaps, first painfully snapping L's arms above his head and then raising him off the floor to dangle much in the same way Light had been before. The pressure on his arms and shoulders sent waves of agony rolling through him and again L clenched his jaw, doing his best to keep himself silent, face impassive.

"You're such an idiot, L," Kira murmured. "How many times do you plan on losing to me? Honestly, I'd consider it a sign of submission but it's really just so pathetic." Idly, he swiped a fingertip down L's other cheek and the man flinched as another incision burned open, though he still made no sound.

"Only you would view things in such a way," L replied with his normal low, calm inflection. Kira's lips formed another cruel twist and he bent down to bring his face level with L's. Again he used that razored digit on the man's face, this time along his lower lip. L managed to keep still, giving no reaction whatsoever. Kira seemed to be both amused and irritated by this and apparently decided to up the ante, leaning forward and running his tongue along the slash, taking great pleasure in the taste or the humiliation or both, going so far as to suck the bruised lip between his own and biting down with sharp teeth before letting go.

L bore the abuse in silence, eyes cast up toward the ceiling (invisible now through the bizarre lighting), teeth clenched firmly. But little tremors ran through him as Kira pulled back and he wasn't entirely sure what emotion was driving them. Briefly, he decided it was probably the same cocktail he'd seen brewing in the prevaricator's eyes only moments ago. Yes, no doubt that was what it was, and understandable, surely. After all, he was under a considerable amount of duress—

The purposely distracting train of thought was abruptly interrupted as Kira picked up on the ploy and regained the man's attention by the expedient method of placing his deadly finger against L's throat, just under the hollow of his jaw. L's face remained composed even as his body tensed itself. So this was how it would be then. No heart attack for him. Kira would slit his throat, bleed him out, watching with delight, no doubt, as the wave slid silkily down his body, soaking, _dying_ his white white shirt crimson and then rusty brown, as he grew colder, _freezing_ cold, his already wan skin going even chalkier….

Kira's eyes brightened, the red glow swelling to terrible heights of luminosity, his smile curling and stretching his lips until it resembled something completely inhuman; he seemed to be enjoying something a great deal, like he could see the images running through L's mind, feel the fear behind them and was absolutely _basking_ in it. L rolled his eyes back up to the ceiling, blanking his mind and releasing a small sigh. The only thing he could do was deny this creature pleasure in whatever way possible.

The finger bit deeper and the man waited for the stroke, waited for the evitable end. His eyes, still cast upwards, fell on his wrists and he observed that they, too, were now bleeding – apparently the chains had cut into them and thin rivulets were trickling down his arms, disappearing below his sleeves. Interesting. The stress of Kira's actions had so occupied his mind that he hadn't even noticed and only now through concentration could he feel—

Perhaps he'd pissed Kira off again with his inattention. He _was_ so vain. The stroke came but instead of a blood-draining gash across his neck it was only a shallow vertical slice. It still bled profusely, L could feel it wandering horribly below his shirt leaving an uncomfortable stickiness in its wake. And while a part of him was certainly _glad_ he was not currently seeping his life's fluid onto the floor he couldn't help but deduce that that would probably have been a kinder end than the one Kira had in store.

A flash of teeth. "So clever, _L_." The letter was drawn out, mocking. "So many tricks, so many ruses and disguises and hidden parts. But it doesn't matter anymore. _I know everything_. There is nothing about you that is secret to me. You are mine" – he swiped at L's shirt with a clawed hand, ripping it to shreds – "and the world will know it. The world will see how you lost to me, how I bested the _best_. Because you're supposed to be the best, right? Not anymore. Because I know…." Kira trailed off as he began what felt like a rather methodical mutilation of L's chest, bared through the ragged strips of cloth.

These cuts were the deepest yet and given how thin L was, how little flesh existed between, he could actually feel some of them scraping against the bone of his ribs, undoubtedly the most singular sensation he'd ever experienced. Yes, definitely— A particularly vicious slice had L letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and effectively cutting off his faltering technique to send his mind elsewhere while his body endured the punishment. Grounded in the here and now, the dark-haired man set his jaw and sucked in a shallow, shaky breath, blinking rapidly to stem his watering eyes. Perhaps Kira's new plan was to let him bleed to death slowly, becoming weaker and colder, slipping away little by little….

But no. As the cuts reached the center of his chest L recognized a pattern and it continued much as he thought it would. This wasn't death then, not yet, merely more gloating, another sign of Kira's triumph. Because when the demon had finished and pulled back with a smirk L knew, without having to look down, _exactly_ what was now scrawled across his chest, written in his own blood with burning strokes. Eight Roman letters, blocky but legible. Just eight little letters that shouldn't have meant anything but were everything instead.

_L Lawliet_.

L's greatest lie and most insidious manipulation.

He'd never put much stock in names, never really cared. It was simply another tool for him to use. When he needed L, he used L. When he needed Eraldo Coil, that instead. Denuvue, Ryuuzaki, Sherlock Holmes if necessary – it didn't matter. Of course there was one name that belonged specifically to him, that _someone_ had given, just for him, but … it just didn't matter.

Not that he was going to be foolish about it. Knowing his true name could lead to discovery of his past which in turn could lead to him…. And so L had hidden his name in the best place he could think of: Plain sight. That's what was done, wasn't it? And so far it had worked. He'd been safe (relatively speaking), no one bothering to question that it wasn't just another alias for him to use as a shield against those who wished to destroy him.

Until now. Until Kira.

There were cultures that believed that to know something's true name was to have complete control over it. It was even in the Bible, wasn't it? Something about the Word and the Name and if you knew the Name then you could annihilate it, extinguish its very existence. To kill with just a name – it was ridiculous, names didn't mean anything….

And then Kira had come and suddenly the rules had changed and it meant _everything_. Somehow he'd attained the power of a god and now sought to rewrite the world. And L's unvalued yet closely guarded commodity had truly become a matter of his life's preservation. But despite all he'd done, despite all the precautions he'd taken, the evil had rooted it out anyway and now it was branded on his chest for all to see.

"I will admit it was one of your smarter moves. You always were good at strong first moves." Kira grinned condescendingly, horribly, as he gripped the chain that still connected them and gave a sharp tug, breaking the links and severing the tie. "But first attacks mean nothing if you can't follow through on them." He let his finger trail idly over L's torso, cutting a shallow meandering path down his abdomen, below his navel….

L involuntarily tensed as the digit approached his waistband. Surely he wouldn't— But could he really put anything past this creature?

Kira sneered at the man. "Don't concern yourself with that. I would never sully myself in such a way, even to break _you_ down." Secretly, L relaxed; however, his face showed nothing. "But I _do_ want you," Kira continued. "I want your broken and mangled body as my altar. I want it as a sign, a symbol and a warning to anyone else who tries to stop the creation of my perfect world! I want everyone to know that even the best cannot defy me!" He bent down and moved close to L, nose a scant inch away from the bound man's. In a low voice he murmured, "I want everyone to know that I am here to stay."

L met his gaze evenly. "You are not omniscient," he replied quietly; "and you are flawed. Even if I am gone, you _will_ be brought down. You will lose, Kira. I guarantee it." The demon's eyes flared briefly and for a fleeting moment it seemed as though he might strike the defenseless man. Unfortunately he came up with something much worse.

Smirking once more, Kira leaned back, eyeing the work he'd done on L's chest. "There is one other thing I want," he admitted as he began to retrace the inverted V of the W, which fell just below L's breastbone. Again he tried to keep silent, tried to deny Kira the satisfaction of _anything_, but as the cuts went deeper and deeper, through the skin, through the muscle, _into_ his abdominal cavity…. His breathing became shallow and rapid and he bit his already bruised lip, drawing more blood out, trying to dull one pain with another, a negligible effort at best.

And there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop the scream as Kira _shoved his hand_ inside the opening, fingers pushing in and up. The cry probably would have gone on longer but L began to choke as a warm wetness crept up his throat and dribbled out of his mouth, splashing on the floor. His mind had gone blank, shutting itself down in self-defense, completely unable to handle what was being done to his body. Therefore it was only with partial awareness that L felt something ripped from inside him, leaving an empty space as the hand withdrew, leaving stillness where there should have been cadence.

His vision was failing him now and his lungs didn't seem to be working – he couldn't get any air. Through the rapidly increasing darkness that was crowding his sight he saw Kira lift his hand. It was painted and dripping red and no longer empty. The thing in it glistened a dark crimson and pulsed weakly, just like a heart, but it was shaped … _like an apple_.

Kira lifted it to his lips, smiling that mad, victorious smile. "L, do you know?..." He sank his teeth into the flesh and L fell into oblivion.

* * *

L's eyes flew open and he choked on a breath that was somewhere between a gasp and a sob. For a few moments all he could do was try to settle his rapid, shallow breaths. When he'd gained some control over himself he took stock of his surroundings. He was in his room, or rather, _their_ room, his and Light's, crouched on the bed in his typical fashion. It seemed he'd fallen asleep, though if the darkness of the window was any indication, it hadn't been for very long. Indeed, he learned as his eyes sought out the LCD numbers of the digital clock, it had only been about 42 minutes. More than enough as far as he was concerned.

Unconsciously, his hand reached behind his legs to clutch at his chest, reassuring himself that nothing that shouldn't be there wasn't, and everything that should be was. The sound of metal on metal drew his eyes down to the circle that was gradually wearing a permanent mark on the pale flesh of his wrist. Naturally, his gaze was carried further, following the links that led to the body lying beside him, curled on its side, back to L.

Light Yagami.

For a moment all L could do was stare as the nightmare slowly receded, fleeing the strengthening clutches of reality, losing pieces of itself until it was nothing more than a series of faded visions like some movie he'd seen years ago and forgotten the plot of. Now it was easier to slip back into his normal mode of thought and the hand clutching his shirt resumed its position on his knee where he'd trained it rest, the chain gently clinking again. He'd spent quite a bit of time working to prepare himself for this role, knowing that it could take very long to complete and so had perfected each oddity until they had become second nature, just as if they'd always been there, as if he'd always been so extreme. Of course, being an "asocial moron" helped, too. (He allowed his lips to quirk a bit as he recalled the tone Light had muttered the mild gibe in – after all, it been in exasperated amusement and he could appreciate that.)

Light. The source of his current problems not the least of which the matter of sleep. As a general rule L didn't require much, certainly less than the average person which in itself was not special – some people did quite well on only a couple hours of sleep a night. And L, no doubt due to his demanding line of work, had gotten it down to being able to function on a few hours every few days. This was ideal for more than one reason, the first, obviously, that it allowed him the time necessary to pour over the information constantly assailing him as he tackled multiple cases at once. And the second reason….

L was very skilled at maintaining a calm outward appearance and this was not something he'd needed to perfect – it was merely who he was. But that did not mean, by any stretch, that he _didn't_ feel and that he _wasn't_ affected by the things around him. Actually, he was a great deal. After all, he wouldn't do what he did if he didn't love Justice, didn't intrinsically love humanity as well. However, he couldn't allow it to affect his ability to reason, to deduce, to conclude, to reach the necessary ends. So he pushed it down, locked it away to deal with later.

And it just so happened that later was when he slept. And when he dreamed. And that was why he did so as little as possible.

Nothing had been worse, though, than this particular case. And it wasn't just the sheer massiveness of the crime, the number of dead or the … _unnaturalness_ of it all; it was the incubus lying beside him right now, fast asleep, unplagued by nightmares of his own. Light Yagami.

L knew, he _knew_ this was Kira, every part of his intuition screamed it. He'd narrowed his focus bit by bit, closing in, eliminating person after person until he'd been left with only a handful. And when he'd finally _seen_ Light, he knew. That's when the games began, each trying to capture the other without giving away themselves. Attack and counter-attack, thrust and guard. And then the rules had changed. Suddenly Light had become something different, something _innocent_, the good son that Souichirou Yagami always spoke of, fighting to bring down Kira with everything he had.

It was after L had chained himself to the teen that his nightmares had altered because now he had the added emotion of guilt. Even though he was almost positive Light _had_ been Kira, he was equally positive that he wasn't _now_. Meaning … L could potentially send an innocent person, or at least a person who had no recollection of his crimes, to his death. This was what ate at him now and what infected his dreams when he had to succumb to slumber.

It didn't matter. Regardless of the outcome, regardless of the consequences, L would see this to the end. The minute those cuffs had been snapped on any possibility of escape had been erased for either of them. Even if it meant the destruction of an innocent person. (Although in his heart he didn't believe Light had ever been innocent.)

L leaned down, hovering like an apparition over Light's sleeping form. The thin delicate fingers brushed aside some strands of hair covering the teen's ear, so lightly he didn't even stir. The dark-haired man bent further still, murmuring in a voice so low it was almost inaudible,

"I _know_ what you were, what you will be, no matter what you are now. And you should know that you will never win. I will never stop until I reach the truth and show it to the world. And no matter what you try…." L was so close his lips almost touched skin as he hissed, "I am also here to stay."

* * *

AN:

- I very much had Hollow Bastion and MSI's "Here to Stay" in the back of my mind while writing this. (And yes, I mean MSI. I like their version better.) That will explain both the title and L's and Light's lines. :)

- I didn't explain it because I didn't think it really mattered, but the motif in L's dream that he couldn't quite recognize was apples. Yeah, kind of lame.

- The quirks: I do believe that L has quirks (how could he not?), however I don't believe they are nearly as apparent as he plays them up to be.

- "Asocial moron" is a term I use quite often which is both amusing (I think) and pretty hypocritical, since I tend to be one myself.

- I may have spelled Yagami-san's name incorrectly; I apologize if I did.

- Just out of morbid curiosity: Has anyone else heard of the "speaking gun?"

- Almost forgot!: Big thanks to Amans for letting me use him as a model and do things like poke his chest and trace letters on it. :D

Originally written 18 Jun '08


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